Perhaps it was the fact that it was such a lovely fall day – the sky was brilliant blue, the wind was brisk but not yet biting and for once Alistair and Morrigan were getting along – but Liam felt better about the way things were going than he had in days. Could be it was just that fall was one of his favorite times of year. He was enjoying the good weather and not worrying about much at all.
They had completed the ugly task of clearing out the blood mages from the Circle. The journey into the Fade had been both invigorating and dreadful. While becoming a mouse or a golem was a neat trick, it wasn't something that Liam felt he would particularly miss and the open countryside along the road to Redcliffe was a welcome change from the windowless Circle.
They set a comfortable, relaxed pace; taking their time along the road. As the laughter died from yet another one of Leliana's tales, Alistair began hinting it was time for lunch; making noises about cheese. Wynne spotted a likely stand of deathroot and stopped to gather some. She motioned Liam to continue on as she began digging at the plant. Sten and Liam's Mabari, Rowan, had wandered off almost half an hour ago, chasing down rabbits for the stewpot.
So it was just the four of them – Liam, Alistair, Morrigan and Leliana – who were accosted by a bedraggled woman, begging for their help. Liam groaned inwardly even as they took off after her rapidly retreating form. So much for the idyllic day.
She led them to a small clearing where wagons and dead oxen blocked the road. Several dead bodies were strewn about but when she walked calmly up to an armored elf, Liam's natural cynicism was piqued. So when the elf waved a hand, he was not surprised to hear the tree fall. His companions leapt out of the way as previously dead bodies stood up and began attacking.
The battle was a near thing.
Outnumbered and taken by surprise, if not for Morrigan's fireballs, the archers would have picked them off like so many rabbits for the stew long before the damned assassin could stick his blades in their hides. With the archers' death by magic and Leliana's own arrows raining down amongst the rest of the assassin's crew, Liam was able to focus on the death dealer himself.
They danced and the dance reminded him of a time long ago and far away. Before the Blight, before the Grey Wardens, before he really knew himself, even. Back to a time when he could still call himself innocent. The dancers themselves could not have been more different – one tall and dark, the other lithe and blonde. Truth be told, the assassin was much better at this dance of blades than he remembered Nate being. Then, they had both little more than boys. Now, he danced with something else entirely.
Liam shook his head to clear the memories. Now was not the time for nostalgia, no matter how much this dance reminded him of Nate. This man intended to kill him and he had an appointment to keep with Rendon Howe.
The assassin's blades whirled madly in the afternoon light as he dipped and weaved and spun in mad circles around Liam. The Warden was taller and heavier, but his reach was easily matched by the elf's damnable flexibility. Pushed to his limits, he was finally able to slam the pommel of his greatsword into the man's head and stun him. No longer able to dodge aside, Liam quickly knocked the elf out.
With the assassin down, Liam looked around and saw the last of their foes fall before Alistair's blade. They all looked a bit worse for wear but alive. Pulling out a length of rope, he bound the assassin's hands. With that small problem taken care of, Liam set about patching up his wounds. He was exhausted. Taking stock, he discovered half a dozen slashes and two arrow wounds on himself. Alistair looked almost as bad. Fortunately, it was nothing some bandages and one of Wynne's nasty tasting health potions couldn't handle.
Satisfied that his band of merry misfits would survive, he turned his attention to the assassin. He lay, hands bound, on the ground where he had fallen. Aside from a growing lump on his head, he appeared well enough. Certainly well enough to answer some questions. Squatting next to the elf, Liam unceremoniously dumped his full canteen over the blonde head. The elf groaned and opened his eyes.
Liam found himself staring into eyes the color of soft caramel. They were the most amazing color he could remember ever seeing. When the elf spoke, the voice that rolled out reminded him of the smooth, sultry brandy his mother had favored. The sound combined with the warm depths of those eyes seemed to drag him down. He realized with a small start that he'd missed what the man had said entirely.
Liam focused his full attention on the assassin, who gave his name as Zevran Araini. The increasingly amusing tale that Zevran spun in his desire to be spared, gave Liam pause. Sure, he already had a capable rogue in Leliana. He had more than enough blades to fight the darkspawn. Still, there was something about this elf that drew him; the honeyed voice, the smoldering good looks, maybe it was just the sheer irreverence of the man. Yes, that was it. He needed someone who could make him laugh. Maker knew he could use it and those Antivan massages sounded like just the thing.
Reaching down, he untied him and helped Zevran to his feet, much to the shock and dismay of Alistair and Morrigan and to the surprise Zevran himself.
Liam caught Zevran's eyes as he pulled him up and he found himself staring into their depths again. He felt Zevran's hand tighten against his momentarily and heard his quick intake of breath.
Releasing Liam's hand, Zevran suddenly spoke, "I hereby pledge my oath of loyalty to you, until such time as you choose to release me from it. I am your man, without reservation... this I swear."
Hand over his heart, he gave a short bow and broke eye contact with Liam. Struck silent by the sudden gravitas of the moment, Liam hesitated. Mere moments before Zevran had scoffed at the idea of loyalty to his employer. But this, this was something more. Liam didn't miss the fleeting look of surprise that flickered through Zevran's eyes before he looked down. No more than the look of wariness that replaced it.
Perhaps, there was more to this one than meets the eye.
Liam took Zevran's extended hand and squeezed it hard, causing the elf to look up in surprise.
"I, Liam, Grey Warden of Fereldan, accept your oath, Zevran Araini, and take you as my man. I pledge to defend you from this day forward until death takes me or the world ends sharing the rewards of success and penalties of failure in equal measure and give you this kiss as a sign of faith. "
Liam leaned forward and kissed Zevran on each cheek before stepping back and releasing his hand. He chuckled at the stunned look on Zevran's face before draping one arm around his shoulder and guiding him back down the trail.
"So, tell me about the Crows."
AN: Liam's oath is a combination of three oaths/responses to oaths:
The lord should replay to him: 'And I receive you and take you as my man, and give you this kiss as a sign of faith, saving my right and that of others according to the usage of the various districts.
.
[Oath acceptor's name] do acknowledge the grave oath given here. As lord and leige to [Oath maker's name]. I shall be just and not abuse my vassal, nor shall I use [him/her] wantonly. I shall share the rewards of sucess, and provide for my vassal. I shall expect sucess, but also work towards it myself. And I shall grant my vassal the [reign/use] of [list specific thing here. Domain/ghoul/house/ect..]. Of this I do swear and grant, taking [oath maker's name] as my vassal and accepting the noblesse oblige of lord to vassal.
./Oath_of_Fealty
Then We, (N), by right of arms King of Atenveldt, do swear to defend you and your household until Death take Us, the World end, or the Crown shall pass from Our Hands.
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